


And a white horse while you're at it

by laughingpineapple



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Flirty fluff, M/M, There Is No Such Thing As Too Much Formalwear Coop, Ties & Cravats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 17:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/pseuds/laughingpineapple
Summary: There is no way, statistically, that Dale Cooper won't make heads turn at the gala tonight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended as a treat for skeleton-justice-warrior for the WONDERFULXSTRANGE exchange, but the Albert Appreciation Day hosted by Amatara came first! So it's still a prompt fill intended as a gift, but two months earlier...

“It has petals like a rose…”

Dale's gaze had been absorbed by the swift, assured brushing of Albert's fingers on his shirt and neck as he wove both ends of Dale's tie into a complex pattern. Those hands knew all the steps, the sizes of the loops and how to link them, and their touch was light, curt and trusted, and hypnotic, in these dilated seconds that came close to intimacy. Dale sat obediently in front of his room's mirror, with Albert - dear Albert - leaning close to him from behind and proving himself adept at an art of which Dale had not even suspected the existence past the routine of the half and full Windsor. The curves of the silk’s red patterns came together in an ornamental knot that made his heart swell.

“Go get your glasses, Coop, it's not even a tulip. Now, I won't say I didn't consider it when I picked your tie. There are a few rose variations...” Albert said, with a glimmer in his eyes, and it was hard not to imagine how it would have been a signature, a connection, a mark, and how Albert must have entertained the same thought before drowning it in other plans, other words. “...beside the aforementioned tulip, and a camellia-shaped knot that some chump, self-evidently after shedding a few tears too many in learning how to tie it, named after an onion instead. But we're going for algid elegance, not opulence. Besides, a flower knot wouldn't have fit your shirt's narrow collar without a few unseemly wrinkles.”

“Albert, you know I appreciate your efforts here.”

“I damn well hope you do.”

“So I hope that you won't take as a slight my observation that you have spent forty minutes of your scarce free time with the end result of making me more attractive to one hundred and sixty-three people tonight, plus freeloaders. I am grateful, but bemused.”

“Coop, if your keen analysis had fingers it would be sticking them in its ears right now. You're overlooking something crucial.”

He smiled at Albert through the mirror. “What would that be?”

“In case you have gone thirty-three years of your life without noticing, I am tasked with informing you that people - large swathes of people - would crush on you if you were wearing a potato sack, draped over a onesie, all dipped in a thick layer of tar and feathers. There is no deterrent to be found down that rabbit hole. High enough up a slick and slippery ivory tower, on the other hand, and mere mortals may find they're not up to the climb to reach that perfect prince charming.”

A tower. Dale found that his smile would not go away. For one night, it was nice to feel safe.

“And I wonder, where does this put you? Wizard? Pacifist dragon?”

“Me?” Albert gave one last brush to his hair, a soft caress that lingered on his temples, and nodded to himself in satisfaction for a job well done. “Don't be ridiculous, Coop. I don't believe in fairy tales.”


End file.
